Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Brian Eno & Robert Fripp: Evening Star

Eno's second collaboration with King Frippson
is often described as more precisely pre-planned and more explicitly artistic
than No Pussyfooting, and I think it
is easy to hear that even without reading anything about it — besides, even
from a purely logical stance, Fripp and Eno had been working together for three
years already, and what was an almost completely «experimental», «let's-press-this-button-and-see-what-happens»
approach in 1973 had become an established working technique by 1975. Also, by
this time Eno's «ambient fetish» was out of the closet, and it is no
coincidence that the album has so many nature references — the album cover, the
track titles (ʽWind On Waterʼ, ʽWind On Windʼ) — where No Pussyfooting was essentially a pure psychedelic experience, with
few visible ties to the natural world.

Which all basically translates to this:
although both albums are credited to «Fripp & Eno» and were recorded just
several years apart, they are so different in scope and purpose that it is hard
to make a useful opinion on which one's the better of the two. Evening Star, or at least its A-side,
is definitely more accessible, in that both players concentrate on «prettiness»
or even «beauty» as opposed to experimental «ugliness» in which they both used
to delight just a short while back. You could even say that the dudes are
mellowing out here — chillin', in fact, paying a techno­logical tribute to
Mother Nature, and temporarily fed up with feedback and «ugly» instrumental
tones. Which may have come across as a surprise for Fripp fans, what with the
harsh, aggressive King Crimson sound of the 1973-74 lineup.

The first three tracks consist of typical minimalistic
Eno loops, over which Fripp applies his Frippertronics, but this time, with
grace and gentleness — his soloing on the title track sounds like the approximate
aural equivalent of a sweet violin part on some romantic sonata. He is much
less visible on ʽWind On Waterʼ and ʽEvensongʼ, preferring to blend his parts
in with the elec­tronics, and completely absent on ʽWind On Windʼ (which is
actually an unused part of Discreet
Music that was originally intended to serve as a backdrop for Fripp's
soloing), but that's all part of the plan — this is, after all, supposed to be
an impressionist album, not a dynamic plot-based one, and most of the time,
Robert is merely content to add one more layer to Eno's stately, repe­titive,
evocative, pantheistic melodies.

It does get very
different on the second side, which returns us to the world of twenty-minute
(in this case, almost thirty-minute) long compositions, and, more importantly,
to the world of uneasy sonic nightmares. ʽAn Index Of Metalsʼ, in stark
contrast to the lovely naturalistic soundscapes of the first side, is a mess of
grim electronic hum, gradually building up in intensity until it begins
sounding like a nuclear reactor just about to blow, and Fripp solos that are
technically quite simi­lar to the ones on ʽEvening Starʼ, but in a different
tonality, this time, much closer to Crimsonian improvisation circa 1973, though
still nowhere near as jarring and demanding on the listener. Per­haps the word «nightmare»
is too strong — especially since the noisy crescendos are deliberately
restrained, again, so that the tune would not have too many blatant «peaks» and
«dives» — but the impression is definitely unsettling compared to the lush
beauty that was unfurling here before our ears just a few minutes ago. And,
well, yes, you might say that thirty minutes is pushing it a bit too far. Who
knows how symbolic that is, though? Beauty is discrete and brief — ugliness is
continuous and lengthy. Something like that.

Other than ʽIndexʼ being overlong, though, I
really appreciate the idea of this «light / peaceful» vs. «dark / unnerving»
contrast — meaning that on the whole, the album succeeds more than it fails.
Maybe from an ideal point of view, both sides would have to be more
symmetrical: throwing in a couple more «scary» tracks like these and reducing
the length of ʽIndexʼ could have rounded out the experience to perfection. But
then, symmetry like this can seem boring to some, and doesn't the very concept
of «Frippertronics» somewhat defy or even mock symmetry? Any­way, an assured thumbs up
for the album here, even if only for the sake of a near-perfect first side. Be
sure to enjoy it in its proper setting, though. It most certainly works best
when you get to play it against some natural background that looks like its
front cover. You might have to move to Mars for that, though, or something.